Dark Skies
by Norgayyyyy
Summary: In a world where steam powered aircrafts rule the skies, a single monarch rules the entirety of the earth below, and the Royal Air Force can't do anything against the many sky pirates... anything can happen. The dangerous world is open for the brave and powerful... it's anyone's game.((Spacing errors are a bug, sry))((Hetalia Steampunk AU that will later feature Sufin /Dennor)
1. Chapter 1

**(Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia, nor the characters of hetalia. Those belong to Hidekaz Himaruya and the hetalia project. I do however own the plot of this story, so no stealing. Leave comments if you want more chapters! There will be ships in later chapters~ enjoy!))**

The sky went on, bleak and gray. A strong breeze blew clouds across the expanses of horizon, providing enough cover for a small airship to sneak through. The ship was metallic, and had large steam powered engines to keep it afloat.

Its sails harnessed windpower, and on a stormy day such as that one it was rather easy to do so. As the ship glided along, it was pursued by a much larger ship that bore a red gear insignia on the side. The smaller ship sped up above the larger  
/vessel, undetected due to such heavycloud cover that evening.

With escape in sight, the small ship made a beeline to a nearby floating island. The name on the side of the island bore an insigniaof a flame, and was piled high with mountains of trash. The trash was walled in with metallic

fences, and it looked asthough it had notbeen touched in years. However, the small ship landed inside the walls, and was pressed against the barsso as not to be veryvisible.

A shout echoed from inside the ship, and an exciteable crew began to pour from belowdecks. They were a rather ragtag group, ranging from a rather tall and happy looking fellow covered in blood to a thin blonde girl with a scowl on her

face. They all waited on deckbefore a shorter man in a fearsome skeleton mask stepped out and hostered his gun.

"You're free to go. We're safe for now, nice going guys." The man announced, seeming to be the captain. He turned and went back into the belly of the ship, while his medium sized crew departed andwent theirseparate ways...

all except for thetall man coveredin blood.

"Captain, may I have a word?" He called, attempting to follow after the other man.

The captain spun around, sighing quietly. "Ja, Ivan? No need to call me captain, you know full well that you are second in command."

"Alright... Tino. Well I was wondering if I could go on a solo mission. Ihave a bone to pick with one of the RAF scouts." Ivan said, staring down at his hands. He cracked his knuckles, then looked down to his captain for an answer.

Tino thought about it for a moment, pulling off his mask to reveal a strangely cute face framed by platinum blond locks. He looked up at Ivan, violet eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his expression. After a moment, he seemed to come

to a decision and nodded.

"You may take one of the smaller ships. Be back in two days time." He responded, giving his second in command a dismissive wave.

"Thank you. It won't take long, I just can't stand the stupid smile on his face when he knocked me to the ground the other day." Ivan muttered, starting back out of the ship. "He'll pay for thinking he can mess with me."

Tino chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he went down the hall and turned left into his cabin. He was used to Ivan requesting to go 'dispose' of certain RAF pilots or scouts that got on his nerves. Ivan always completed his

missions in good time,withnearly aone hundred percent success rate. Tino trusted the other man with his life, that's why he had chosen him years ago to be second in command of his crew of air pirates.

Being an air pirate was a risky line of business, and not for the faint of heart. Tino had seen more than one friend die in battle, or by an air accident. Yet he couldn't bring himself to choose a new way of life. He loved pirating...

the thrill ofchasing down cargo vessels, running from the Royal Air Force or RAF, and selling his stolen goods on the black market.

Due to having never been captured, Tino had earned himself quite a reputation with the RAF and anyone looking to sail the skies. He was merciless, and precise in all ventures and the price for his capture was the highest of all air

pirates. His nicknamewas whisperedby fearful merchants and in the bedtime stories mothers told, to make their children wary of the skies:

The Red Phantom.

The legends had it that whenever the sun rose or set, one had the chanceto see hisship flying beside the sun. If one was lucky enough to see that, then the next day the sunrise would be a bright red tomatch the blood

of all that had fallento the Red Phantom's gun.

But that was merely a legend, which Tino had actually laughed at many a time. He didn't mind the fear his nickname put into the hearts of merchants, but he believed the story to be a bit far-fetched. There was no denying, however, the

origins of the urban legend were true. The great battle between the air pirates and the RAF many years prior, had given Tino his nickname. His fighting skills had been the stuff of myth, and as soon as he had spilled enough blood he had taken off  
/with his crewinto theclouds... just like that.

Tino sat on his bed, staring at the intricate clock on his wall. The time was 12:25 AM, and he had yet to ready himself for sleep. His mind raced, as he fidgeted with the skeleton mask in his hands. He had bought it off his favorite

craftsman and friendEduard, who workedin theunderground black market. The two had been friends since a young age, yet never had Eduard wished to join Tino's crew.

'It's too dangerous... I want to live longer than all those pirates that get executed by the Queen.' Tino recalled Eduard had said, when he offered that he become his second in command.

"Too dangerous..." Tino mumbled, before hanging his mask on a hook by his bed. He slipped out of his heavy coat, and unbuttoned his shirt and trousers. With all of the garments removed, he slipped beneath the covers of his bed and shut

his eyes. Sleep did not comeeasily.


	2. Chapter 2

"No no no!" A voice yelled across a large hallway, echoing through several rooms. "You let them get away again? Why do I even let you remain a pilot,hmm? You're useless to me!"

"But sir I-"

"Do not talk back to me, you're being demoted. I'll bring in Mr. Køhlerto take your place."

"Sir, please! He's a rookie-"

"Don't argue with your commander! I don't care what he is and what he isn't. What I do know is that he flies and tracksmuch better than you. You are dismissed."

The thin blond commander waved his head pilot away, obviously frustrated with his badperformance. He sat back in his chair, and spun it around to face towards the large window in his office. With a sigh, the commander rubbed at his temples, annoyedby  
the terrible efforts of his men.

A few moments later he had collected his thoughts, and turned back to his desk to grab his microphone. Clearing his voice, he hit the button and spoke in a direct monotone; "Would pilot 139 pleasereport to the commander's office immediately."

He turned the device off, and made his face into a blank slate before lacing his fingers together pensively. It was another few minutes before pilot 139 burst into the office, a wide smile on his face.

"Good evening, sir! Why have you called for me?" The newcomer asked, bouncing over to his commander's was rather tall, with gravity-defying blond hair and sky blue eyes. He wore goggles atop the spikey mop, and freckles were scattered over  
hischeeks and nose. In all, he was cheerful looking,yet had a muscular build that told one that he wasn't to be messed with.

The commander scrutinized the pilot before him with narrowed eyes, thensat back in his chair. "You're being promoted to head pilot. Don't mess this up, alright? You are to listen to every order I give, and continue to perform to the utmost of your  
/potential."

The pilot nodded vigorously, suddenly solemn. He got on one knee and bowed his head to show respect towards the commander. "I won't mess up. I promise to do my duty properly!" He stood back up, and adressed the commander directly. "Oh, and your brotheris...  
having some behavioral issues. He needs your guidance, Lukas."

"I'll attend to that. You are to address me as 'commander' or 'Mr. Bondevik.' Using my name is not proper. Now get going, you'll be sent on a mission tomorrow with a fleet of six that you may handpick." Lukas replied, his voice hard.

The pilot saluted, and turned to go before he was stopped by a kurt, "One moment."

He turned back to the captain, and looked at the shorter man questioningly.

"You've been doing very well, Mathias. Keep it up and you'lltake my job someday." Lukas said, his voice softening slightly. "But you're also an airheaded idiot. Now get back to your quarters and get some rest."

"Yes sir!" Mathias exclaimed, bowing second time before exiting the room and accidentally slamming the door. He quickly opened it and popped his head back into the office. "Sorry!"

Lukas shook his head, the ghost of a smile gracing his cold yetattractive features as the pilot closed the door a bit less violently,and left.

The two had known one another briefly before then, as high commander Bondevik often surveyed and got to know the Royal Air Force's best pilots. He did that to make them more loyal to him, and to see who had the most potential for promotions. There wasalso  
a scoreboard for training and missions, which revealed which pilots were in the top level of the RAF. For months, Mathias Køhler a brand new Danish pilot,had been at the top of thatleaderboard. Hence the reason why he was promoted.

Lukas stood from his desk, and grabbed a binder full of airpirate profiles. He flicked the lights off in his room, stepping out of the room and locking the door behind him with a small,intricate key. His gaze alighted on the stairwell at theend  
of the hallway, and he briskly walked towards it, heeled boots clacking on the polished wood floors below his feet.

Moments later he was inhis quarters, flipping through the leather bound folder of air pirate profiles. He sipped at a teacup of coffee, setting it daintily beside him and removing a leather glove. The feel of leather was nice to him, and so many of histhings  
and items of clothing were of the material. With a sigh, he set the folder down, and lay on his posh bed. His coat was tossed aside, as well as his dark button-up shirt and tie. It was evening after all, and he wished to spendhis free time in  
comfort.


	3. Chapter 3

A loud bang echoed about the large workshop, as a door slammed shut within it. Footsteps could be heard pacing about the stone floor, then there was a rustling of metallic parts. A man stepped out from behind a row of shelves, part of his face coveredin  
soot. His coat hung loosely around his shirtless frame as he dug for something on the shelves.

The workshop was almost unbearably hot,hence the reason the man had removed his shirt. He dug about for a few more minutes before producing a smallgear, and walking back through the door from which he had come. This man's name was BerwaldOxenstierna,  
and he was considered one of the best mechanics and inventors in the world. He was a mechanic for hire, and did not work for just one person. Therefore, he had a variety of clientele, including; the Royal Air Force, several air pirates,air merchants,  
and the occasional garbage ship. Since he was so renown, nobody attacked him, and he lived a peaceful life on a little floating island he had made.

Many of the RAF's ships had been made by him, along with their machinery and weapons. They offered him not only large sums of money for his services, but also protection... which he did not need as much. Air pirates respected his skills and ability tokeep  
secrets, and would not attack him since there was no reason to.

On that particular evening, Berwald was building a hoverboard for a customer who had not given his name. The customer however, was interesting,so Berwald had decided to build the board for him. Thinking back on it, he realised the customer had beenyoung,  
probably around seventeen or eighteen. He had had tidy platinum blonde hair, and a sour expression on his face. The kid had essentially looked a lot like Berwald's acquaintance Commander Bondevik, and he could only assume that washis

brother.

With a small sigh, Berwald pulled a metal and glass shield over his face and pulled out a blowtorch. He started to weld pieces together, being very careful and precise with his actions. Each piece had to be laid out perfectly, so as to function properly.

After a few hours of hard work, the board was three quarters of the way done. All that was left to do was to add some of themore complexinner workings. He yawned, cracking his knuckles as a loud knock was heard at the front door.

"Hei? Is someone there?" Berwaldcalled, drowsily traipsing over to the heavy metal door. He pulled it open to reveal a very tall man with blood splattered over his coat, and a rather disturbing smile on his face.

"Hello! I am here to request your knowledge and expertise on a certain matter..." The newcomer announced, letting himself inside without permission.

Berwald merely nodded, already knowing the man was an air pirate. By the looks of him, he was around twenty five and had already hurt or killedsomebody. Not that it was any of Berwald's business, but he privately hoped the victim was alright.

"State your intentions,and i'll see to it." Berwald replied following the man into his own workshop.

The man chuckled, nodded several times. "Well, I heard from many that you know several pilots from the Royal Air Force. Would you happen to know of a particular pest by the name of Alfred FJones?"

Berwald did actually know of the pilot, and wondered if he should reveal the information to the obviously suspicious character before him. Doing so could potentially result in endangering Alfred's life, so he thought it best to keep his mouth shut.

"I do know of him, but since I protect the safety of all my customers... I cannot tell you his location or personal info." Berwald said, going over to his workbench and taking a seat. He wiped some soot away from his face with his coat sleeve, and staredthe  
man down with his intense gaze.

"Hmm... that will not do. I need to know more of this pilot. It would do you well to tell me what I wish, mister." The man replied, purpleeyes flashing slightly as his eerie smile widened. Berwald heard alarm bells going off in his head, and he

instinctively reached for the Stunning Pistol at his belt.

The man seemed to notice, and drew a gun of his own,pointing it directly at Berwald. "I don't like to threaten people, but you would not answer my simple questions... therefore you'll be punished."

Berwald gulped, staring as he raised his hands in the air. Thoughts and ideas flashed through his mind, as he frantically thought up a plan to get out of the situation. Before he could do anything else though, he felt a dart hit him square in the  
later he hit the floor with a thud, having passed out from heavy tranquilizers.

"Nighty-night!" The attacker said in a childish tone, picking Berwald up and slinging him over his shoulder.


End file.
